


No Waste of a Reunion

by shinealightrose



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Classroom Sex (Adults), Instant Attraction, M/M, Sex with a stranger, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightrose/pseuds/shinealightrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun never considered having sex with a strange teacher, in a deserted classroom, on his 10 year reunion day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Waste of a Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Frotting, blow jobs.

Excuse me, are you lost?”

Yes, no, probably. Can I be? All phrases running through Sehun’s brain, although it took the words of a stranger for him to realize he was literally wandering the halls. He’s twenty-eight years old, and apparently nothing has changed in over ten years because the hallways of his old high school are the still the same claustrophobia ridden paths that he remembers from all those years ago, and he still tends to ramble through them aimlessly. The only difference is he’s taller now, they look even more rundown now, and there’re no kids running around. All the kids — or their grown-up counterparts — are currently in the giant cafeteria. It’s reunion day, and Sehun doesn’t know why he’s bothered to come. 

“Just reminiscing,” he tells the man who spoke. He’s youngish, probably around Sehun’s age although definitely not older than thirty, with blond hair and an earnest face. 

“You’re here for the reunion then?” the man asks. He’s got to be a teacher or something, Sehun thinks, here on a weekend like a total loser. Not that he looks the part. He’s kind of stunning to look at, dressed in casual clothes, or what evidently passes for casual among teachers these days. In this man’s case, a pair of comfortable fitting dark jeans and a plain white undershirt. The green and white checkered button-up is actually laying across the back of the teacher’s chair, Sehun notes, while the teacher is just leaning up against his door frame. 

His slim body does nothing to hide the room behind him, meanwhile Sehun peeks in. He actually remembers this classroom. It was his homeroom, and contrary to all expectations he suddenly really misses the old man who used to teach it. The guy was sixty when Sehun was in school, strict but nice. Sehun and his friends always tried to make his life a living hell, but to their bruised pride, the guy always ended up waving off their attempts, like he was too good to be messed with. And he probably was. Kids always think they know what life is like, but they never really do.

A wave of nostalgia actually creeps upon him now, bigger and more intense than all those halfway familiar faces in the cafeteria had conjured up. 

“Isn’t this Mr. Kim’s old room?” he asks the young teacher.

The blond man startles, blinks, and uncrosses his arms. “Mr. Kim, the math teacher?”

“Yeah,” says Sehun, and without asking he kind of pushes himself into the classroom, brushing against the other’s arm. “He was my homeroom teacher. Do you know him?”

The room no longer looks like a math nerd’s paradise. Instead, a picture of the Great Wall of China frames the rim of the wall and ceiling, and a dozen diagrams and drawings of Chinese characters that Sehun can’t read deck the walls between the windows. At least the tree outside looks kind of the same, leaves that used to barely scrape the tops of the second story windows now pushing passed the third floor. 

“Yeah, I think so. He was retired by the time I started teaching several years ago, and then he just subbed for a little while. Quite the legend I always heard though.”

“Yeah. Wow, he must be ancient,” says Sehun. He really doesn’t like the decor of the new room. Everything looks cheap in a ‘Quick! Outfit the Chinese teacher’s classroom’ sort of way. 

“He died last year. Heart attack.”

Sehun freezes up, doesn’t look at the teacher blessed with having to deliver the news. “Oh.”

So this reunion really was a bust. To be honest Sehun thought he might enjoy it a little more. He used to have so many friends after all, and most of them are here. Meeting them face to face, however, after it had been some time — they all lost contact with each other, as friends inevitably do — and now it’s just weird. People he used to know, used to get along quite well with, used to know their every secret. Now they look vaguely similar but he doesn’t know who they’ve become. And the worst part is that they all act like Sehun is exactly the same. Just the same old Sehun.

It was a bore.

People change, and so was that girl he used to date. So was that guy he had a crush on. So was his head, his brain, his thoughts. Some things weren’t really worth looking back on.

“Are you alright?” the teacher is asking him. Sehun almost forgot he was there.

“Yeah. Fine. Just, I thought reunion would be a little different, you know.”

The man laughs, a delicate airy laugh and something about the sound draws Sehun into looking at him. “What were you expecting then?”

“I don’t know,” says Sehun. “Maybe that’s why I just don’t care.”

“Fair enough.”

There is an awkward silence. Sehun realizes he’s staring, that he’s also being stared at, and so he diverts his attention back to the room at large, walking over to the window to look out. 

“You teach Chinese or something?” he asks stupidly. It’s pretty obvious of course, although there could be a remote chance that he does something other than language. Dual course teachers were known to exist. 

“Yeah.” The teacher follows him over to the window. “My name is Lay.”

Sehun looks at him again, surprised to see only a few feet of space between them. The man really is gorgeous, and the best thing is, Lay seems to think the same of him, judging by the way his eyes are roving. Sehun rests his forearms on the window sill and arches his back just a tiny bit. Just to give himself a nice profile for Lay to ogle.

“Is that a Chinese name?” he asks, eyes watching him in the reflection of the window. After a moment, and yes, he is definitely checking him out, Lay averts his head and also gazes through the window, eyes meeting nevertheless. 

“I make my students call me by real name. Zhang Yixing. For my friends though, Lay is easier.”

“Yi-xing… Lay…” Sehun tries them both out. “I’m Sehun. Oh Sehun.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

For a moment Sehun wonders what the hell he’s even doing, contemplating flirting with a teacher in his old school, a stranger he’s never actually met. But since his mind is already going there… he indulges himself. The way Lay, Yixing, this teacher-stranger speaks to him is nice enough, almost professional, but… if he hadn’t observed way the man’s eyes drooped and roamed in the most casually hungry way a man could look, he wouldn’t think anything more. 

It didn’t happen that way though, and now Sehun is full-on fantasizing what it might be like to angle his body and perhaps let his eyes feast on him back. Does the man have a teacher’s desk? Is it cleared off or would Lay need to swipe it empty before he pushes Sehun up onto it? It’s probably too late, and too obvious, if Sehun checks now. Besides, that was kind of a stupid fantasy anyways. He licks his lips, tears his eyes away from Lay’s reflection and almost resigns himself to walking away and going back to the cafeteria, where he can find even _more_ people who no longer amuse him and instead just make his day a living hell. 

“I didn’t go to my reunion either.”

Sehun blinks, all of a sudden reminded that there are two people in this room, and maybe Sehun’s agenda isn’t the only one. “No?” he asks conversationally, if the word conversationally could be put to the task of finding some way to segue into, ‘Hey, can I suck your face now?’ Now that would be great. Instead, he shifts his weight on the window sill so he can actually look Lay in the eye, and not through a reflection. 

“Yeah. Why meet up with people you’ve lost touch with. They say, if you haven’t bothered to talk to somebody in over five years, there’s probably a good reason for that.”

Sehun snorts. “Agreed. So what, you just blew it off? You’re probably smarter than me. This whole thing is practically a waste of my time.”

“Only you can decide if something is a waste of your time. Things don’t waste time. Just the person.”

Sehun halfway rolls his eyes. “Is that supposed to be some kind of Chinese proverb? Please tell me no.” He smiles anyways.

The teacher laughs and smiles in return, vaguely embarrassed when he says, “No. But isn’t it kind of true?” 

“Possibly. Possibly,” says Sehun. “Okay, I’ll buy. Since you’re so wise and all, tell me how I can make this day not a waste?” 

“Hmmmm,” Lay hums while he draws back. He pulls away from the window and sits down on the top of the nearest student’s desk, knees out and his hands behind him. It’s in no way an overtly sexual move, and yet Sehun can’t help but be drawn to his crotch. “How to make your reunion not a waste…” he muses again, while Sehun gulps. Lay has his head turned, and the side angle of his chin, neck and hint of collar bone is luscious.

“Clock’s ticking,” Sehun teases him. He leans against the window, now facing the seated teacher. 

“Tick tick, I know. I hear it.” Lay laughs and Sehun finds himself falling in deeper. “Well, there’s the thing about reunions. Some people attend because they want to reconnect. Meet old friends, old flames, that sort of thing. Others just go to gawk and preen and compare. So that’s probably about 95% of people there…” He trails off and then stares at Sehun pointedly. “This is in no way scientific, mind you. I’m just coming up with this shit off the top of my head.” 

Sehun snorts. He really likes this guy.

“So the other 5% then?” It’s worth asking, apparently.

“They go to experience life from a new angle. See if there’s something they missed. Someone they missed. Take advantage of the atmosphere. Make new friends.” 

“I like the new friends thing,” Sehun admits. 

Lay hums again, doesn’t necessarily speak again. He’s still sitting on the desk and somehow, Sehun can’t figure this out, he went from sitting there with his legs open in a non-sexual manner, to sitting there with his legs open in a totally sexual manner… all without moving a muscle

Sehun’s feet make the first move, slowly, deliberately. If he could turn his brain off and switch it to auto-pilot too, he would. And yet crazy thoughts are making his head almost spin and go into overload as he closes the gap. Can he do this? Is this not an invitation? An invitation to… what? Make a new friend? 

Lay doesn’t say anything else, but his eyes never leave Sehun’s except for brief moments of time when they’re roving lower. Then they jump back to his face, just as Sehun steps in between his legs and reaches out with his long arms to touch the bare skin of Lay’s arms. The teacher is still in recline, resting back on his hands ever the slightest bit, forcing Sehun to come to him, and when he does, when Sehun’s there, he smiles.

Sehun mimics him, reveling in this shared secret smile. Their noses almost touching, eyes on each other’s lips. Lay makes one little casual sweep of the room hallway-side, and Sehun peeks too, sees that Lay has actually closed the door behind him. There’s a very thin uncovered vertical window placed on the door, but chances are… nobody but Sehun was walking the halls this day. And that’s a chance both of them seem ready to take, ready to take advantage of. 

The first kiss is curious, experimental, soft lips against Sehun’s moist lips and nothing else touching except the tips of Sehun's fingers along the fine hairs of his bare arms. He closes his eyes and nips the next kiss. Lay presses forward, and Sehun declares that the end of the trial run. The third kiss is deeper, still all lips but hungrier as Lay slots his head and greedily kisses back. Then his hand leaves the desk and rests behind Sehun's neck to hold himself up while the other wraps around Sehun's back, and this time it's Sehun who sways from the movement. He leans forward, closer to Lay, palms pressed down on the desk while the teacher tugs gently at his body, and none of this may have yet reached cataclysmic proportions, but the push-pull effect has Sehun already bristling. It's like he's swimming, gravity pulling him down while he struggles to stay up, and this seemingly innocent teacher is parting his lips with his own.

The first taste of tongue has him gasping. Sehun can't take the shock of it. His palms are starting to hurt from grasping the back edge of the desk and somehow he feels like he's the one not in control. He steps back, finding his balance again and for two seconds his eyes meet with the teacher's as they decide, is this the end? Does Sehun walk away now, or does Lay push him away... Do they go back to their mutual lives, or should they see this one out...

Whatever is happening in the teacher's head, Sehun makes the decision for him. His hands slide back across the desk, then towards Lay, and the man gasps silently when he palms the sides of his body, up the fabric, across the creases of his shirt, forward towards collar and Sehun watches intently when his own fingers touch collar bones, loves the sensation of Lay breathing shallowly, watching them too.

Sehun skips the next step. He goes right to the back of Lay's head, pulling him forward and kissing him sloppily once again. This time it's all tongue and slight whimpers. The teacher's hands are back around his waist but he uses the leverage to scoot forward on the desk until he perches right on the end, right outside of Sehun's closed thighs and their hips meet for the first time. And Sehun moans, because he can feel him through their jeans. The bulge between Lay's spread legs is only slight so far, but it's definitely there. And so is Sehun's own. 

The teacher moans through their kiss, rolls his hips even and that's the last thing Sehun can handle. He whines and presses back as hard as the space allows him. On top of a tiny desk with no back for support is certainly not the best place to rut. There's too much movement, not enough leverage and if Lay wasn't just as interested in rubbing back they might both have toppled over. 

His shirt's partway undone, Lay's handiwork, and one of the man's delicate hands is already skimming along his lower back, fingers stretching out and over and up and around and finally down into the hem of Sehun's boxers, in which Sehun is becoming harder and harder. 

Abruptly he draws his head away. "Alright, that's it. This desk has got to go," Sehun gasps.

Lay seems to share the thought, but he crooks and head and says, "Sorry, mine's not much bigger."

It's sadly true. The Chinese teacher's desk is a miserable excuse for a table, only marginally larger than the students', and the only difference is that it's solid with a narrow edge with drawers and... absolutely no room on the top for even the slightest bit of fucking. Unless Sehun wants to hold to his fantasy and swipe the top its contexts, which in this case involve several heavy staplers and one paper cutter that looks like it might way twenty pounds and dent the floor if knocked off. 

"Damn."

Lay laughs, and it's such a beautiful sound it almost distracts Sehun from their current predicament: both hard and in need of relief, not to mention he's certain Lay is a gift sent from above, and he doesn't know how to tell the man that he doesn't want to let him go. Especially when he's leaning in and whispering into Sehun's ear, "You know... there's always the floor..." while pawing at Sehun's fabric-hindered erection. 

There's no graceful way of getting to the floor, Sehun thinks, although his brain may not be functioning under the highest available power. It's tile and probably cold and definitely not comfortable, but...

Lay stands up, and the effort of it forces his hips once again into Sehun's, pressing against each other as Lay essentially stands and then walks against him, walking him backwards until his back hits the window. 

From here, Sehun is reminded that the man is several inches shorter, but he's still delicious when he kisses Sehun again and starts to undo his belt and zipper. 

"Ohhh," Sehun moans softly when warm hands set him free. Sehun strokes himself while Lay undoes his own, eyes on the progress of jeans slipping down to mid-calf and finally Lay's erection is meeting his own, reddish skin to throbbing muscle. 

Lay leaves them there. He pulls Sehun's hands away and wraps them behind himself, and now Sehun has to focus three-ways on the man's succulent kisses, their lengths bobbing together, and the hard rippling muscles of Lay's bare backside, which is on full display if anyone happened to look in through the door. Sehun shivers at the thought, hands tensing around white globes all the while Lay hungrily presses in to him on all fronts. 

The friction sucks, what little of it there is. "God, I wish you had lube," Sehun pants between kisses, fingers exploring his ass.

"Yeah, not quite on the school supplies list. Sorry," says Lay sheepishly. He apologizes by clutching their lengths together suddenly with one hand, and uses the other to further push Sehun's pants and boxes down. He's bare now from waist to knees, and soon even that much disappears. On Lay's example, he steps on the hem and pulls them all the way down with his feet, slipping finally out of his shoes and socks as well.

Halfway naked in his old math classroom, what would Sehun's old favorite teacher have thought? Because the new guy sets a completely different kind of model. In one sudden rush, Lay strips off the remaining undershirt and stands before him completely bare and Sehun nearly has heart failure. 

"Woah, what kind of teacher are you actually?" he gasps, feeling at the softly defined abs that mark the front of Lay's chest. Taught muscles along a narrow frame, and Lay may just be the hottest thing Sehun's ever had the privilege to see naked. He's a bit embarrassed now at his own flat, undefined stomach, if the teacher wants to even see that. 

"Didn't mention I used to be a dancer, sorry," he says smirking.

"Shit, don't apologize." Sehun can barely control his hands desire to feel and explore, but his cock is also demanding attention and it's such a rush of mixed feelings he doesn't know what to gratify first. But then he starts to get taller, and it takes a moment before he realizes it's because Lay is sinking to the floor, kneeling atop the pile of discarded clothes. Sehun's fingers can no longer reach those delicious abs, but they certainly can thread through the teacher's hair while his first and original problem gets taken care of.

"Shit!" Sehun repeats, louder this time when Lay opens his mouth and sucks down the first several inches of his raging length. Warm suction and all the natural lubricant he'd wanted just seconds ago, Sehun gets now. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, takes one hand behind him to brace against the wall. He aches to rut forward past Lay's throat, but currently he's probably having the best reunion of anyone in the school, and he kind of doesn't want to ruin that so fast. He likes being among the lucky 5%. Or maybe blow jobs were of an even lower percent. Either way nothing diminishes how great Lay's mouth and tongue feel around his erection.

He bites his lips to keep from moaning like a twelve-year-old boy, although that's easier said than done when Lay starts bobbing evenly up and down, humming when he's full to the brim, and smacking his lips when he reaches the tip. Sehun feels himself quickening fast, knows he's leaking precum and the sudden thought of himself among Lay's lips makes has him moaning loud and pulling Lay away. 

Before the teacher has any time to question his motives, Sehun drops to the floor and reclaims his lips. One knee rests on a shoe, and the other his jeans and belt, but Lay tastes of all the right amounts of salty, slick and perfect. He strips his shirt with some difficulty, not wanting to waste time with buttons. All he wants is for there to be nothing between them, and the thought of not being as defined as the former dancer... even that thought diminishes with the ever growing need to come with Lay's lips to his. 

"You said something about _floor_ ," he whines into the teacher's mouth. 

"I did."

Lay pulls them down sideways, throws Sehun's shirt onto the ground next to his own, and then he's on top of him. Elbows to tile and nothing about laying on a pile of matted clothes screams comfortable, but none of that matters when their legs are intwined and Lay is dragging his length frantically against Sehun's. 

"Fuckkk, this will have to do," says the teacher when Sehun's hips buck upwards. Their legs lay in a row, Lay's knee between both of Sehun's, his right thigh bracketing Sehun's left. There's no give or take when it's all give give give from both of them. Sehun controls Lay's hips so that his cock slides against him just right, Lay holds himself up so that he has room to rut. 

"This works... fine," Sehun pants, his toes already starting to curl. Lay grunts above him and leans more heavily to one side so that he can fit his hand between them. "Shit that works even better," Sehun gasps when Lay curls his fingers about both of their cocks. He's aware that their position is now sort of obscured from the doorway thanks in part to the teacher's desk. It gives Sehun the confidence to set an impatient rhythm, writhing as much as Lay's hand will allow. He squeezes and strokes them both, panting into Sehun's neck until Sehun finds what's left of the feeling in his hands and angles Lay's head so he can kiss him again. 

He comes like that, with Lay's hand around his cock, Lay's breath in his mouth, a sweaty, sexy body all around him, and it only gets worse when the teacher refuses to let up. He milks Sehun through orgasm while still chasing his own, and Sehun practically wails. His torso is covered in his own come, his face, mind and body completely blown. Lay looks so close, eyes shut when backs up, sits up, mouth open in a silent plea for completion. Sehun, desperate to help him attain it, pushes himself up even though he feels dead and exhausted. Lay crouches over Sehun's knee, hand now pumping his own cock, and Sehun can't move his legs. He can, however, sit up and take over.

Lay almost doesn't want to move his hand, but Sehun smacks it away and starts pumping. Lay arches into it, all muscles contracting as he breathes shallowly in between desperate gasps, and it's so fascinating to watch his torso contract and contort, Sehun very nearly misses the moment when Lay loses himself and comes. Spurts of white seed shoot from his cock and most of it hits Sehun right in the chest. He flinches but keeps stroking, all the while Lay's hands become weights on his shoulders, holding him up. He's too far away to kiss, and that's the only problem right now. He wants to contain this, bottle it up, and have Lay's pleasured features to himself whenever he wants. He wants this teacher, this stranger, under his fingertips, coming undone because of him.

Lay shudders, lets go of Sehun's shoulders and nearly falls back. Sehun's hand slips one last time around his cock, one long last sting of cum missing its target as it shoots for the window, and then he slips out and collapses on his hip, sideways on the pile of clothes. 

"Wow," says Sehun. No other word seems to want to come to him right now.

Lay doesn't even respond, or rather, he can't. He's still breathing heavily and looked pleased. His eyes go from Sehun's splattered chest to the window and he smirks, silently but proudly. 

Sehun doesn't bother looking down. If he does he'll see a mess and his white stomach, even whiter now by the look on Lay's face. His fingers tighten around the nearest piece of cloth - Lay's undershirt as it so happens - and wipes himself off, pleased that the teacher doesn't seem all that freaked out by the use of his shirt. When Sehun's done, he takes it from him, folds it over, and cleans himself as well. He tries to touch it to Sehun's softening cock too, and this is where Sehun draws the line. 

He gasps, scampers half a foot and the teacher actually laughs. "Come here. You're still a mess," he demands and Sehun reluctantly holds still. It leads to another round of naked kissing, although this time Lay is careful not to take it so far. It's softer this time, and stays that way until Lay backs away. Their skin is sticky and hot, completely disgusting but when they're both that way it feels so right. Until Lay reminds him, "You should get dressed now. Still got a reunion downstairs you know."

"What reunion. I thought this was all about making new friends," Sehun whines softly, still trying to get back to Lay's lips.

"Hmmm. That too. Alright, if you don't want to rejoin your reunion and find a better hook-up than me, how about we go out for dinner or something?"

"I could do that."

"After I wipe off that window," Lay adds with a chuckle and a glance upwards. 

"Yes, and perhaps next time you can better stock your classroom?" 

The teacher is still laughing. "Perhaps I can do that too."


End file.
